Silver Linings (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Cam

I step behind Greg and wrap my arms around his waist as he flips the pancakes. The pan sizzles as the aroma of melted butter and sweet batter fills our kitchen.

“Smells amazing, babe.” I plant a kiss on his cheek. “Glad I married a man who can cook.”

Greg chuckles and leans back into my embrace. “Well, one of us has to be able to feed us. Can’t subsist on just coffee alone, even if it is the best in town.”

He’s just giving me shit, because I know my way around a kitchen. As the owner of CC’s coffee shop, I’ve flipped a pancake or two or a thousand in my time. But Greg likes to look after me and I like to let him. I grin and give him a playful squeeze before releasing him to grab plates from the cupboard.

We work in tandem like a well-oiled machine, him cooking, me setting the table. Once I’ve finished, I start a quick cleanup, taking the empty batter bowl to rinse. The faucet lets out a groan as I turn the handle.

“Ugh, this leaky faucet is driving me nuts,” I groan, trying to stem the dribble. “Do you think it’s an easy fix? Maybe just needs a new washer or something?”

“Maybe.” Greg slides the last pancake onto a plate and turns off the stove. He walks over to inspect the drip, giving the handle a final twist. “I can take a look at it later, try tightening things up. I know my way around a toolbox.”

I huff a laugh. “Is that so? I seem to recall an incident involving an Allen wrench and a tantrum not too long ago…”

“Hey!” Greg holds up his hands in mock offense. “That was one time. And IKEA furniture hardly counts.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes. Greg’s grin is wide as he picks up our plates, carrying them to the table already set with maple syrup and two steaming mugs of coffee made from freshly ground beans.

The scent of breakfast mingles with the ever-present hint of coffee that permeates our home. I pick up my mug as soon as I sit and take a sip, soaking up this perfect moment of domesticity with the man I love. These little moments, the teasing and the teamwork, remind me how lucky I am, leaky faucets and all.

“Alright, dig in before it gets cold,” Greg says, smiling at me over his stack of syrup-drenched pancakes.

“And what do you have planned today?” I ask, picking up my knife and fork.

“I’ve got a couple of client consults this morning, then I guess I’m fixing the faucet,” he replies with a chuckle.

I swallow a mouthful of fluffy pancake. “Speaking of home improvements, how’s the bathroom coming along?”

Greg’s face lights up at the mention of the project that’s been keeping him busy. “Oh, it’s going great! The new tiles were delivered yesterday. They’re going to look amazing.”

“I can’t wait to see them.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Greg wags a finger at me. “No peeking!”

“I wouldn’t dare.” And honestly, I wouldn’t. Greg is renovating the main bathroom as a gift for me and I won’t ruin his surprise, although I’m sorely tempted. “And the new vanity?” The huge carton has been sitting in the garage for a month now.

“Assembled and ready to install.” Greg puffs out his chest a little. “Told you I could handle an Allen wrench.”

I throw him a wink. “My handyman extraordinaire.”

We lapse into silence for a few moments as we finish the pancakes, my mind full of the progress we’re making on our little cottage. Each project, each improvement, is another step in building our life together. As I reach for my coffee, a thought that’s never far from my mind these days resurfaces.

I clear my throat. “You know,” I begin, trying for casual but hearing the weight in my tone, “with the house coming together, I’ve been thinking more about… about starting a family.”

Greg’s eyes soften, a gentle smile curving his lips. “Me too, Cam. I want that with you. More than anything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He sets down his mug and reaches for my hand across the table. “I know we’ve talked about it before in general terms, but I think the time is right. It’s not going to be easy, but I’m ready. Whenever you are.”

I squeeze his fingers, emotion welling up in my chest. “I’m ready too. I want to be a dad. I want us to be fathers. Together. I want to raise our child in this house, in this town. I want to give them all the love and support we have to give.”

“We will.” His voice is laced with feeling. “We’re going to be amazing parents. I just know it.”

Nodding, I blink back the tears threatening to spill over. Talking about kids always makes me emotional, and my feelings are only amplified by knowing how much Greg shares my dreams. They are our dreams. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Cam. Always.”

We sit there for a long moment, hands clasped. I’m so lucky to have this man in my life. We’ve been through some really tough times, but we’ve done it together. Now the future stretches out ahead, and with Greg by my side, I’m ready for anything life throws our way.

“Well,” I say eventually, “I’d better get moving.”

I drain the last of my coffee then push up from my seat and reach for my plate.

“Leave it,” Greg says. “I’ll take care of it. You’ll have enough tables to clear today.”

“So true.” I laugh and do as he says. With a quick kiss and a promise to text later in the day, I leave him at the table and step out into the crisp October morning.

Collier’s Creek is just starting to come alive as I make my way down the sidewalk. The sun peeks through the branches of the towering maples that line the street, casting dappled shadows across the pavement. The air is cool, carrying the faintest hint of wood smoke. Leaves crunch beneath my feet as I make my way down the block.

I round the corner onto Main Street and toward the town square. Mrs. Anderson is out sweeping the front step of her craft and fabric shop, her gray hair pulled back in a tidy bun. She waves as I pass, her face creasing into a grin.

“Morning, Cameron!” she calls. “Off to work?”

“Yep,” I reply, returning her wave. “Can’t keep Collier’s Creek running without its caffeine fix.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Ain’t that the truth. You give my best to that husband of yours, you hear? Tell him I’ll make an appointment for next week.”

Greg’s a financial planner and has clients all over town.

“Will do, Mrs. A,” I say. “See you later.”

I continue on, passing the hardware store and the preschool, nodding to the folks I know. I cross the road outside the general store, just in time to see Logan Nichols darting into the bookstore, Ellis Books, with a takeout cup in hand. I’m sorry I’ve missed seeing him for his regular morning coffee.

It hits me, as it often does, just how much I love this place. This quirky close-knit town where everyone knows your name and your business. Where people look out for each other, celebrate each other’s joys and rally around in times of sorrow. God knows, we’ve needed a lot of support over recent years what with all the shit that’s gone down—first with Greg’s accident, and then Mom’s MS.

Collier’s Creek is where Greg and I have built our life together. Where we’ve poured our hearts into building our businesses and making a home and a future. And now, with the promise of parenthood on the horizon, I feel that sense of belonging even more. I want to raise our child here, among these tree-lined streets and friendly faces. I want them to know the warmth of a community that cares, the security of roots that run deep.

The front of CC’s comes into view as I step up the curb, and my heart gives a leap of pleasure. This is more than just my livelihood—it’s an extension of everything I hold dear. A place where people come to connect, to share their lives over steaming mugs and fresh-baked pastries.

The bell chimes as I step inside, the rich scent of coffee grounds and pastries immediately enveloping me. Most of the tables are full and the hum of conversation fills the room.

“Morning, Cam,” Will calls from behind the front counter. His dark hair is messy, there’s a tea towel slung over his shoulder, and he’s making yet another coffee. Somehow he’s still smiling after what has no doubt been a busy morning.

“Hey there.” I grin back, grabbing my apron from the hook on the wall and putting it on. “Thanks for coming in to open up. How’s the morning been?”

“Just picking up now,” Will says, passing the cups of espresso he’s just made to the server, Josh. “I hope you enjoyed your sleep-in and are ready for the morning rush.”

“Always,” I reply. “Where do you want me? Register and food duty, or on the machine?”

“I’ve got this,” Will replies, indicating the machine. “Although I haven’t had time to plate up all the pastries yet.”

Will’s been with me for a while now and has become an integral part of the CC’s family. His charm has endeared him to our regulars, and I couldn’t be more grateful for his presence. He usually works school hours so he can be home with his son, Maverick, but now he’s got Colton, he comes in early every now and then so I can enjoy the morning spent with Greg. Josh is also a godsend, as is his mom, Donna, who is a baker extraordinaire, and comes in each day in the early hours before the coffee shop opens.

I get to work setting up the pastry case while Will brews coffee, and Josh clears tables. The bell tinkles. I look up and see Mrs. Walsh, one of our regulars, pushing open the door, her large purse over her arm.

“Good morning, Mrs. Walsh.” I’m already preparing her usual order—a large Earl Grey tea and a blueberry muffin. “How are you today?”

“Oh, can’t complain, dear,” she replies. “Just here for my daily dose of caffeine and gossip.”

I chuckle, handing over her muffin then adding a splash of milk to the tea. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’m sure Will’s got all the latest news from the town council meeting last night.”

As Mrs. Walsh, tea in hand, chats to Will about something Mayor Hobart said, more customers trickle in. I lose myself in the familiar rhythm of serving customers—taking orders, prepping simple food, ensuring the place is running like a well-oiled machine. Will passes across a takeout cup.

“Large chai latte for Sarah!” I call out, sliding the drink across the counter to a tired-looking young woman in scrubs. She flashes me a grateful smile before dashing out the door, no doubt on her way to the clinic down the street. She must be new in town because I’ve never seen her before.

As the morning wears on, the coffee shop is filled with the chatter of friends and the clinking of cups. I move from table to table, refilling mugs and exchanging pleasantries. This is what I love most about CC’s—the way it brings people together. I’m in my element. I love being part of the day-to-day of the coffee shop, providing a place where people feel welcome, and are more than just a customer. I like to think that’s what makes CC’s special—a home away from home.

Later, when Will’s on his break and I’m wiping down the counter, Mrs. Hendricks, another of our regulars, approaches.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hendricks. Your usual vanilla latte?”

She nods, although her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes, please, Cameron.”

As I prepare her drink, she fidgets with the buttons on her cardigan. I sense that something’s weighing on her mind and feel a tug of concern. “Is everything alright? You seem a bit down today.”

She sighs. “Oh, it’s nothing, dear. Just feeling a bit lonely, I suppose. Grandpa Ellis is busy working at the bookstore, and the house feels so empty without him.”

I place her latte on the counter and give a gentle smile. “I understand. It’s never easy being apart from the ones we love. How about I bring your drink over to a table?” I’m sure a bit of company will do her the world of good.

This time there’s warmth in her smile. “Thank you, Cameron. You always know exactly the right thing to say, and that sounds like a lovely idea.”

She takes a seat by the window instead of heading straight out as she usually does. As I drop off her latte, one of the book club ladies joins her, and Mrs. Hendrick’s face lights up.

As I watch the two of them, my thoughts drift to my own tough times. Greg and I have faced our share of challenges, but we’ve been lucky to have the support of our families and friends, and we’ve come through the worst of those times.

I glance at the clock, realizing it’s time to take a break. The morning rush has died down, so I take the opportunity to call Greg. It’s become a ritual—a random call sometime during the day, just to hear each other’s voices and share the little moments of our day. I’m not sure who looks forward to the call more—me or Greg, who works from home.

With a nod to Will, I step into the back room, pulling out my phone and dialing Greg’s number. He answers on the second ring.

“Hey, babe,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “How’s your day going?”

“Better now that I’m talking to you. The morning rush was crazy, but we managed. How about you? How’s work treating you?”

We discuss a client he’s working with and I ask him about the bathroom.

Greg laughs. “You’re obsessed.”

“I can’t stop thinking about our plans,” I confess, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Imagining our family, with a child running around the house, filling it with laughter.”

“I know,” Greg replies, his tone mirroring my own. “It’s all I can think about too. We’re so close, Cam. I can feel it.”

We talk for a while and when I hang up the phone, I’m smiling. It’s an awesome life we’re building together.